The Collector 07

I guess the opposite of an unexpected blow job is a long expected blow job. Is there anything worse that a woman telling you what an incredible cock sucker she is, that she wants to suck your cock so you can see for yourself, and then have to wait for it? And wait and wait and wait for it? That's what happened to me with Connie.

Connie was one of the women I met on the internet. She had a great sense of humor and obviously liked to have fun. We hit if off pretty well and within a week or so, we decided to meet for a drink. So far, so good, right?

We met at a mutually convenient bar and I have to say, I liked what I saw. Connie was fairly tall, maybe five-nine or five-ten. She was dressed casually in tight fitting jeans that made her ass look great and a nice powder blue top. Her breasts weren't very big, but she wasn't flat-chested either. Her hair was a dark, teased-up nest of what I'd call 80's hair. It rose a couple inches above her forehead and fell to about the middle of her back in hair-sprayed tangles. She had bright blue-gray eyes that had permanent laugh crinkles at their corners. Her lips were full and pouting and she wore no lipstick. She had an easy laugh, a warm smile and a personality that just said fun.

There was also an air of sexuality about her that's difficult to describe. Women have subliminal ways of telegraphing their willingness, I suppose. I definitely sensed the sexual possibilities between us almost as soon as we met. It's partly something subtle in body language. I can't explain it, but I certainly pick up on it when it's there. There were other, less obscure signs as well. I've mentioned before how much I like to make eye contact with women, and in Connie I found a woman who returned it unflinchingly. To have your eyes locked together for long stretches, well after the timer in your head says it's time to look away, can really build up the heat.

Well, our drinks turned into dinner. We were having a blast, laughing and joking like we'd known each other for years. A lot of the humor was sexual in nature, but nothing too far out of line for a first date. We had originally gotten to the bar around six o'clock. At 9:30 we were still finishing dessert. After dinner I walked Connie back to her car and she offered to drive me over to my car. Now it was not cold or raining and my car was less than fifty feet away. But I'm not an idiot. I got in the car with her and we wound up making out in the parking lot for another half hour or more.

It didn't go any farther than some deep kissing and a little groping, but we both went home a tad breathless. For the next week or two Connie and I tried to work another date into our schedules, but without success. About a week after that, she stopped returning my emails.

Now I'm not one to pester a woman. If I send a few emails and get zilch in return, then I back off. I don't know what the situation might be and I usually try to give the benefit of the doubt. So another week goes by and I've just about written Connie off when I finally did get an email from her. She apologized for not getting back to me sooner, but she had something serious to work out.

Naturally, I asked what the problem was. She told me that she and her husband, from whom she'd been separated for several months prior to her meeting me, were getting back together. I was disappointed, I confess. Connie seemed like she would have been a lot of fun. But I thanked her for being honest and told her what a good time I'd had on our date.

Connie surprised me by replying that she was sorry things hadn't worked out differently; that she had gotten so hot that night that she couldn't get to sleep. Now I wouldn't expect that from a woman who is getting back with her husband. At least not if she's serious about him. So I figured I'd push things a little bit.

I emailed back, saying it had been the same for me, which was more or less true--she had gotten me pretty turned on. I wished her luck with her situation and told her to feel free to write me whenever she wanted. I closed by saying I felt like I missed an awesome opportunity. I hesitated, thinking it over for a moment and then added, "I knew I should have just whipped it out that night!"

I figured what the hell, Connie had a sense of humor and would probably take it for just a joke anyway. What I was really hoping is that she would offer some kind of humorous reply that would let me keep things open for discussion, even if only jokingly. Let's face it, if we're both joking about it, we're both thinking about it. And as long as she's still thinking about it, I've got a chance.

Well, I wasn't disappointed with Connie's reply. It was actually a lot better than I had expected.

"Whipping it out wouldn't have done you any good... I hate giving head in a car!"

I re-read that one a few times, getting hornier and hornier at the thought of Connie giving head in a car. Or, more specifically, Connie giving me head in the car that night.

I thought about how to reply for a while and decided I needed something creative and funny. I know there are a lot of other ways I could have gone with it, but that seemed like the best thing with Connie.

"Let me guess," I wrote. "The glove compartment door sprang open and hit you in the back of the head and you've been cockeyed ever since, right?"

"That's soooo funny!" Connie wrote back. "I'm STILL laughing!"

That was all she said about it, so I wondered if I should keep the subject alive and, if so, how. Obviously, if I've got a woman talking about blow jobs, I want her to keep right on talking about them. I knew with Connie humor was the key. If I could come up with something funny that didn't seem too eager, she might continue to play along.

"I'm taking my car to the dealership tomorrow and having the glove compartment door removed. Let me know when you're free for dinner again. ;)"

"No cars!" she sent back. "There's just not enough room for me to work my magic! :O" I was tempted to ask exactly what she considered to be her 'magic,' but decided it was still too early for anything so direct. Keep 'em laughing all the way to the microphone.

"Magic?" I asked in my reply. "I thought I was the one with the magic wand."

"What makes you think your wand is magic?" Connie wrote back.

"Well, it knows a lot of card tricks. And it dispenses chocolate flavored treats. Does that count?"

"LOL! You're crazy!" Connie replied. "Chocolate? I doubt that! That's the other problem with cars... no place to spit!" Again I found myself reading her email over several times and getting turned on, this time by the thought of her with a mouthful of cum. I figured I might as well push things a little further.

"Sure it's chocolate!" I emailed back to her. "Don't believe me? See for yourself! Oh, and your 'no place to spit' problem has an obvious solution too!" I didn't know if that was going too far. After all, she was back with her husband. But I rationalized that if she was going to volunteer information about spitting, she couldn't be all that worried about it. Just a little harmless internet flirting, right?

I didn't hear back from her for several days after that, and I figured I had gone too far. Not that I thought Connie would be upset. Like I said, she had a good sense of humor. But that didn't mean she didn't feel a little guilty about talking to me the way she had. It may not have been much, but I imagine her husband would have gotten pissed if he knew. But then I got her reply and it picked up right where we left off.

"Tempting as your 'chocolate dispenser' sounds," Connie wrote, "I'm on a restricted diet... only allowed one source. And no, swallowing is not an option for me! (Baaaarrrrffff!)"

I had to take her 'one source' comment with a grain of salt. Yeah, maybe she was giving her husband another chance, but she was emailing me about blow jobs and swallowing. She didn't seem like a woman who was particularly committed to her diet restrictions. And yes, I was a little disappointed when she told me she didn't swallow. I prefer to find out if a woman swallows by cumming in her mouth. Telling me in advance was like telling me what a present was before I unwrapped it. And it not being what I wanted.

In my reply I didn't address her 'one source' comment. Yeah, we both knew it wasn't going to happen under the current circumstances. Or, at least, it shouldn't. But as long as we didn't remind ourselves about that, we could have some stimulating conversation while keeping the door open for later, should her situation change.

"What?!?!? You don't swallow?!?!?!?" I wrote back. "I'm getting my money back from that dating site!"

"Trust me," came Connie's reply. "If I gave you head, by the time I was done with you, you wouldn't care."

Now I like a woman with confidence and Connie had that. But I don't care how good she is, it would still be better if she swallowed. I said so in my reply. She came back saying no man had ever complained before. DUH! What guy is going to complain about getting a blow job? Better to get one from a woman who spits than not get one at all. I pointed that out to her as well.

"You may be right about other girls," Connie wrote. "But if I gave you the best blow job you've ever had in your life, would you still care if I swallowed?"

"I've had a lot of women suck my cock," I answered. "And some of them were pretty freakin' incredible. What makes you think you'd be the best I ever had?" It seemed like we were past the point where my replies had to be clever and/or funny.

"Well, I've sucked a lot of men's cocks," she shot back. "And almost every one of them has told me I gave them the best head they've ever gotten!"

I thought about Connie's reply for a while, not sure what to make of it. Was she really that good? Or were the guys she went down on either grateful exaggerators or losers who rarely got their dicks sucked? I couldn't help wondering if she had ever blown a guy who had gotten head from as many women as I had.

The fact that she was telling me how good she was led me to believe that she wasn't serious about getting back with her husband. This prompted me to push things still further.

"So when can I assess your talents for myself?" I asked in my next email.

"Weeeeellllll..." Connie typed back. "That's a bit tricky. But not out of the question. I'll have to get back to you."

Naturally, I took her answer to mean that she wanted to do the deed. Whether or not she was going to cheat on her husband, or if things weren't working out with him anyway, wasn't clear. At this point I didn't really care. This guy had a hot wife that gave great head, or so she claimed. If he wasn't doing his part to keep her happy, he didn't deserve her. That's how I rationalized it anyway. Bottom line is it's tough enough for me to say no to a blow job, never mind that I'm being told ahead of time that it'll be the best I've ever gotten.

Connie and I continued to trade emails over the next couple months and every one of them discussed blow jobs to some extent. Sometimes it was just a joke or comment about blow jobs. Other times it was very specific and very hot.

"I can't wait," Connie wrote in one such email, "to get down on my knees and suck on your cock."

I couldn't help wonder when this was going to happen, but rather than pressing the issue, I simply joked that by the time we actually got together, I'd be too old, or I'd need Viagra or something like that. She usually said something along the lines of it would be worth the wait, no matter how long the wait was.

If she were my only prospect, the anticipation would have killed me. Fortunately, I'm always working on multiple possibilities, so I could afford to wait for Connie to make good on her talk.

After so much time and so many steamy emails, the likelihood of anything actually happening was starting to fade and with it my enthusiasm. I found myself waiting a day or two or three before responding to Connie's emails. Not because I didn't think it was ever going to happen, but because it just wasn't as much fun the fiftieth time as it was the fifth. So I was caught off-guard when she asked what I was doing the next Friday night.

"No plans," I replied. "Why?"

Connie explained that her husband was away for a week and while he was gone, she was going to pack up and go stay with her sister for a while.

"Things aren't working out so well," she wrote. "My sis is going to spend the weekend with me and help me pack up what I need. Then I'm going to go stay with her for a bit."

I wouldn't have cared if she told me her husband was going bowling Friday night and she just wanted to get together before he got home. I know that's not right, but, in my own defense, I'd been listening to Connie tell me what a great blow job she gives for too long to care.

So obviously I agreed to meet her that Friday night. The place she picked kind of surprised me. It was a bar and restaurant with a big dance floor, but the music was all 50's, 60's and 70's rock. Not exactly what a frequent club-goer like myself is used to, but then again, I wasn't meeting her because I wanted to dance.

I got there before Connie and had a chance to survey the scene. It was a bit of an older crowd than in a typical dance club and the music was, well, a bit older too. But otherwise, it was pretty much the same scene you'd find anywhere. I got myself a drink and chose a seat from which I could see the door and waited for Connie.

I only had to wait about ten minutes for her. I spotted her as soon as she walked through the door. She was tall in her own right, and her hair was teased up the same as our last date. She was looking good in tight jeans and a tight top that showed off her body quite well. I couldn't help getting turned on thinking about how the night would end: with this beauty on her knees and my cock in her mouth.

As Connie came through the crowd, I saw there was another woman with her. Judging by how similar they looked, it had to be her sister. Sure enough,

Connie came over to me and introduced her sister Holly to me. Holly wasn't quite as tall, and her hair, though long and dark like Connie's, wasn't teased up. Her face looked a little older than Connie's, but not much and she had a very similar body. Holly was also dressed in jeans and a simple top, just like Connie, and they both showed up with impish grins on their faces.

"We don't get out much," Holly told me with a laugh. "But when we do, look out!" They were carrying on and making a lot of noise from the moment they got there, before they had anything to drink. And as for drinking, they both polished off a couple of beers in the first twenty minutes.

Most of what they were doing was funny but juvenile. They were mimicking the bad dancers on the floor (and there was no lack of those) and pointing out all the bad toupees that the bad dancers were wearing. Then they got me out on the dance floor and they really started making a spectacle.

I'm not a bad dancer, but I'm also not used to dancing to 50's and 60's rock, so I was a little out of my element and wasn't in any hurry to dance. Connie and Holly weren't the type of women that would take no for an answer though, so I followed them out onto the floor.

At first it was just the three of us all facing each other dancing in a little group. Then Connie started getting closer and rubbing up against me. First she just bushed her breasts across my chest a few times. Then she started stepping closer and pressing herself against me. After doing that a few times, she turned around and started grinding her ass against my crotch. I was beginning to think we probably wouldn't be staying in the club very long, the way she was turning up the heat so quickly.

Before I could ask what our plans for afterward were, her sister Holly grabbed me from behind and started rubbing up against me from behind. Connie, seeing what Holly was doing, immediately began grinding her ass against me again. They went at it pretty good too, like they were trying to crush me in between them. We were getting some looks from the other dancers, but I didn't care. I already knew one of these fine looking women was going to give me head tonight and I was starting to wonder if the other one wasn't part of the game too.

Holly was married, happily, I assumed and it was with her and her husband that Connie was going to be staying. So I figured this was just some harmless fun on her part, but I couldn't help wondering. Connie had told me that when they were younger, they had, on occasion, dated the same guy, but never at the same time. Connie also said that the thought of being in a threesome with her sister grossed her out, which is understandable. Of course, that didn't stop me from having a few fantasies out on the dance floor about the two of them taking turns sucking my cock.

As the two of them continued to drink, and they were drinking a lot, they started telling me stories about each other. Connie told a story about Holly getting a little more than friendly with one of her professors at her community college.

"She used to go to his office at least twice a week and go down on him right there!" Connie told me, while Holly laughed and said Connie was lying. "The funny part is," Connie went on over Holly's protests, "is that he gave her a 'B' for the semester! I told her she needed to learn to give better head!"

"Yeah, well," Holly said, pushing her way in front of me. "She gave her boss head one time so he wouldn't fire her and then wound up canning her a week later anyway!"

"That's not true!" Connie cried, pushing Holly back. "I never gave the boss head. He was gross! I broke the cash register and I got one of the other guys to tell the boss he did it and he wound up getting fired. I felt bad for him, so I might have, well..." She winked. "Then the boss found out the truth and fired me too.

"If I had blown the boss, I'd still have a job. That's for sure!" Connie added. "I'm no 'B' student when it comes to that!" She pinched Holly's cheek.

"Yeah, sure!" Holly laughed, slapping her sister's hand away. "You don't even swallow!"

"Holly swallows," Connie told me, unnecessarily. "Me and our other sister used to call her Holly Swallow!"

It was obvious to me that both women were getting pretty drunk, not just because of what they were saying, but by the way they were saying it. They weren't quite slurring their words, but they were close. They were also getting a little unsteady on their feet.

Now you may think that I was encouraging them (or at least Connie) to drink, but I wasn't. In fact, it was quite the opposite. If I've got a woman who wants to do the deed sober, the last thing I want is to get her drunk. She isn't likely to give better head if she can't see straight, not to mention there's the possibility she'll pass out before we get down to business. But the real reason is that I don't want a woman to do something when she's drunk only to regret it later. I want a woman who wants to suck me. I don't want to resort to lying, tricks or alcohol. A big part of the thrill for me is knowing that a woman is getting down on her knees for me because she really wants to.

Anyway, we danced, drank for several hours. At one point, Connie straddled my thigh while we were on the dance floor, grabbed me by the front of the shirt, threw her head back and acted like she was riding a bucking bronco. Her sister took a few turns at grinding her ass into my crotch too. I have to admit that I'm not particularly comfortable with being part of a public spectacle, even when it's two hot women grinding me on a dance floor. At the same time I didn't want to ruin the fun for Connie and Holly by being uptight. And I obviously didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize the blow job I was expecting from Connie.